Going Home
by flighty.thistledown
Summary: I'm sorry, Keiko.' Three words that signal the end of one arc in life and the beginning of another. Keiko learns how to live without Yusuke. Possible Hieiko-ness ahead.
1. goodbye

_disclaimer: not. mine._

--one: goodbye--

--

She knew, she knew without hearing the words or watching his lips or taking notice of that odd, strangled sound in his voice that was so unusual in him. She knew, knew in the way that only she could, that this time he was really and truly dead and that there was no chance that he could be brought back and that she'd never get to see him again and that he was gone, gone, gone.

"I'm sorry, Keiko."

Words. They didn't mean anything. They didn't mean anything anymore, because Yusuke was gone and he wasn't coming back and Hiei was standing there staring coolly at her but she could still see that strange little glint in his eyes, the one she knew that meant he cared but wouldn't let it show anywhere else in his face or body. He was standing there, telling her that Yusuke was gone, dead, never to be again making her laugh, and that Kuwabara was terribly injured but remarkably alive and that Yusuke had jumped in front of an attack to save him and Kuwabara, enraged, had managed to kill the demon, but it was too late and Yusuke was dead, dead, dead.

And she wanted to cry, wanted desperately to cry, but for some reason the tears wouldn't surface, wouldn't spill from her too dry eyes, wouldn't relieve her of that strange pressure sitting at the back of her throat, forcing her to breathe in deep gasps that hurt her chest. She pressed a hand to her heart, thinking erratically that the pressure of her hand would force her heart to beat normally, an average eighty beats per minute, instead of what seemed like three hundred. It didn't help and all she could do for a full five minutes was sit there and press her hand to her chest, gasp for breath, and stare up sadly at Hiei.

Gone, gone, gone.

Dead, dead, dead.

"Where is he?" she finally managed, her voice dry and crackling and completely unlike her own voice. His lips tightened nearly imperceptibly and she sensed his hesitancy to answer the question that she needed to ask and he didn't want to answer.

"There was no body," he finally said. "It was disintegrated in the attack. There is nothing left of him." She sat perfectly still, his words revolving in her head, spinning this way and that way, bouncing off her skull, smashing into her forehead, and finally, finally her thoughts flew out of her mouth.

"Damn you, Yusuke!" she screamed, her head falling into her hands, her body shaking with rage and that strange pressure still building in the back of her throat. She still wanted, needed, to cry, but the tears would not come.

"Keiko," Hiei began, but she stopped him with a motion of her hand.

"Take me there."

--

It was just a field, a boring, empty, grassy plain that had nothing to recommend it. Hiei led her to a particular spot, five feet away from the only tree in the area.

"Here."

She knelt there, touching the singed grass briefly, feeling an unbelievable calm settle over her. She felt the blood that was coursing wildly through her vessels slow to normal, felt her heartbeat return to its regular pace, felt her eyes lose the gritty feeling that they got whenever she wanted to cry but couldn't.

She knelt there for twenty minutes, clutching the tufts of grass tightly, feeling the breeze cool her face, smelling the scent of spring and rain, watching the birds and bugs flutter about normally. And then she looked back up at Hiei, who had stood there patiently, waiting for her to speak.

"He was supposed to come home with me," she said slowly, rising to her feet gracefully, her hands brushing her hair out of her face, wiping away the dirt at her knees. "But now it appears he's gone on home without me."

--

It felt heavy in her hand, heavier than it ought to have felt. It glinted in the sunlight, catching the reflection of her face and distorting it, twisting it until she couldn't recognize her own features. It was smaller than a normal pen—it had been a gift to Yusuke for graduating high school without failing, getting expelled, or dying. He had looked at her confusedly after he opened it—a pen was such an unusual gift. Small and slender, simplistic in its style, but with an easy way of writing that made it feel as if it were made for the user. Smooth and sure it released the ink, laying it out on the paper without so much as a hitch. It laid perfectly in the hand as well, fitting itself to each individual's own palm and fingers. She didn't know why she'd given it to him, only knew that she felt he ought to own it. He'd never had a lot of beauty in his life—he only really had battles and schoolyard scuffles and a drunken mother—he'd never really owned a pretty trifle, something that meant nothing and everything at the same time.

He'd used it diligently, frequently running to the store to buy a refill cartridge, not wishing to throw it away. And now the gift she'd given to him three years before was worn and used, but nonetheless beautiful. She clasped it tightly in her hand before dropping it into the box that she was piling his belongings in. She gave a final glance around his apartment, checking to make sure she'd packed up everything. Then she picked up the box and left, closing and locking the door behind her. She met the landlord on the steps and handed him the key. He expressed his sympathy, something that Keiko simply did not want to hear. She'd always hated pity, always hated that maudlin, sorrowful, uncomfortable expression of a person's grief that always brought the rush of memories back to the front of her mind. Stamping them back she gave the skinny landlord a sad smile and thanked him for his hospitality, then practically ran down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk, where Kuwabara was waiting with his car.

Kuwabara was mobile, although he was practically covered from head to toe in bandages. Yukina was with him, sitting in the front seat of the car that seemed much to small for such a tall man like Kuwabara. He felt guilty for Yusuke's death, yet the first time Keiko saw him she had immediately reassured him that she only blamed two people—the unnamed demon and Yusuke himself.

"He always was so nobly stupid," she grinned, although she felt as if her face would crack into a million pieces with the effort. "I am glad that you made it out alive," she continued, patting Kuwabara on the hand.

And now he was helping her move him out of his apartment, helping her take the final steps into fully admitting that he was gone and never coming back, never returning to her.

The worst of it all, however, was Puu. Why she'd never connected it, never realized that when Yusuke died Puu would die too was beyond her. After she'd been to the field she'd gone straight home, collapsed on the bed, and fell into a troubled sleep. Hours later she awoke and walked aimlessly around her apartment until she suddenly realized that something was missing.

Puu. Yusuke's inner self. Puu, who was always left with her when Yusuke went off into a battle, just in case. Puu, her stand-in protector, her tie to Yusuke when he wasn't with her.

She'd fallen onto a chair then, staring at a spot on the wall, all thought processes shut down. She felt numb—had felt the strange, delicious feeling of _not_ feeling ever since she woke up—but thinking about Puu was starting to awaken her dead nerves and she didn't want that, didn't want to feel those horrible feelings of loss and emptiness and heartache. So she blocked the thoughts, merely stared, merely was.

At some point in the night Botan stopped in and spoke with her, though Keiko had barely heard her. Botan, who had escorted Yusuke to the Spirit World for the last time, had come with a few messages for Keiko, but she could have been reciting the alphabet for all that Keiko heard. She nodded in the appropriate places, thanked Botan, and waved goodbye absently as Botan realized that Keiko was simply not responsive. And then she was left with her numb self once more.

Sliding into the back seat of the car she still felt numb, answering mechanically when Kuwabara asked if everything was in order, smiling politely as Yukina asked if she was all right.

"I'm fine."

She wanted out of the car, away from people, away from anyone who reminded her of Yusuke, because being around people forced her to acknowledge their presence, forced a few of her nerves alive, and those nerves would slowly work their life into the other nerves, the nerves that she wished would just stay dead forever.

They reached her apartment building and walked her to her door, Kuwabara pulling her into a rough hug before he left, Yukina much gentler in her ministrations.

"We'll see you tomorrow, Keiko," she said sweetly. Keiko thanked her, closed the door and locked it, then carried the box of his belongings into her bedroom, where two boxes of his clothes and books were already located. She set the box down and then walked out into the kitchen for a glass of water. She had just lifted the cool glass to her lips when the first fat tear trickled out and over her eyelids. After that there was no stopping them.

She did not sob, merely let the tears roll down her cheeks and splash onto the floor. Two days worth of tears flowed out, unheeded, for she only leaned her palms against the counter and waited.

Kurama knocked at the door before she was done, and with tears in her eyes she opened the door. He said nothing but stepped inside, led her gently to the couch, and dabbed lightly at the tears with his handkerchief.

"Thank you," she whispered when she was done. He looked deeply into her eyes, and she felt as if he were probing her mind, her thoughts, her broken dreams. Now that the tears were shed she was painfully aware of everything, but the sharp edge of the pain was slightly dulled by the strange elation she felt at actually feeling.

"I came with a message from Koenma. He's very sorry for your loss, Keiko," he murmured quietly, unassumingly, in the way that Kurama had.

"Tell him thank you for me," Keiko replied.

"Of course," Kurama nodded. "You should know, of course, that Yusuke had some unfinished business. I'm sure you weren't told the details, for that's typical Yusuke fashion." She nodded.

"The demon that Yusuke was fighting was only one of seven that are hoping to raise a demon army and invade Earth. It seems," he grinned wryly, but not inappropriately, "that demons cannot think up original schemes, for they all wish to invade and dominate Ningenkai.

"Hiei, Kuwabara, and I will be finishing his mission, for the four of us often worked as a team. It was our wish that you should know that his death will be avenged."

"Thank you, Kurama."

--

--end--


	2. finishing up

_disclaimer: Because Kurama's pretty._

_real disclaimer: Not mine._

_author's notes: Well. The first chapter was fairly well received. Although...you know...only five reviews. coughhintcough Ahem. Moving along. I'm not as happy with this chapter...but, then again, I'm a terrible critic of my own work. . Excuse me if anything's incorrect—I've been denied a complete Yu Yu Hakusho education, after all._

--two: finishing up--

--

"This is insane," muttered Kurama as he wiped a bead of sweat from his face.

"You can say that again," grunted Kuwabara from his side, hurling an anonymous demon to his left. "Whoever this bigwig demon is, he's got plenty of power."

"Shut up and get back to work," ordered Hiei, calmly killing three or four demons in one stroke. "This is the last damn demon left—I don't want to fail our mission at the last minute because you two were talking."

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Kuwabara, refraining from too much comment. Hiei had been even more tense than normal in the past months, and Kuwabara really wasn't feeling up to a fight with the fire demon.

The whole group still felt the loss of Yusuke keenly—he had been the antagonist and the peacemaker, the joker and the serious one, the idiotic and the intelligent one. Yusuke had been everyone—without him it felt harder to relate to the others in the group. Yusuke, Kuwabara liked to think, was like glue. Very versatile glue.

"Rose Whip!" Kuwabara cast a glance in Kurama's direction.

"Pay attention, damn it!" came Hiei's reprimand as his rarely used fire sword easily sliced through a burly looking demon.

"Whatever," grumbled Kuwabara, thrusting his sword through his own opponent.

Fifteen minutes later they barged their way into a large room that housed the seventh and last of the demons intent on dominating Earth. Blasting down the large wooden doors the three men entered the room, only to draw up short at the sight before them.

The last demon was weak. Incredibly weak.

_But that's usually the case with females,_ frowned Hiei. _What the hell is going on here?_

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," she said, her voice thick and heavy, rolling over them like syrup. "I've been expecting you. Allow me to greet you in this humble abode I like to call home."

"We would get a verbose female," sighed Hiei.

"Tsk tsk tsk, Hiei," the demon smiled. "You shouldn't speak so rudely about the demon who will soon kill you." Hiei didn't bother to hide his snort of disbelief.

"If you're going to kill us, I'd like to at least know the name of our killer," snarled Kuwabara.

"Oiran," replied the demon easily.

"Courtesan," sneered Hiei. "I remember you now—you truly were a courtesan. Just a lowly nobody that the demon Gouriki used to screw whenever he wasn't trying to take over Ningenkai."

"I'm glad to see you have a good memory, Hiei," Oiran laughed easily. "Yes—I was that nobody. But then Gouriki died, and suddenly I was free. You see, I had been sold into his ownership. My father was a horrible gambler and when he was short of funds...well, he'd do just about anything for money. So he sold me. And I'm not someone who likes to be owned."

"So why have you adopted his cause? Are you getting back at Gouriki's dead body by trying to achieve at what he failed?" Kurama asked, his eyes piercing the other demon's own violet ones. She paled considerably under his scrutiny and Hiei internally mocked her weakness—she had yet to learn to mask her feelings. But then again, she was female, and they were notorious for wearing their hearts on their sleeves.

Briefly a stray thought ran through his mind, telling him he'd spent much too much time in human company. He was beginning to pick up on their sayings.

"Bastard," Oiran hissed, pointing his index finger at him. "Ennetsujigoku," she muttered. Immediately orange-red flames shot out of her finger, headed quite predictably at Kurama. The fox demon easily ducked—he was not stupid. Nor was he slow.

"Idiot. You're not worth our time," smirked Hiei. "Just a lowly, incompetent female. That's all that you are."

"Bastard!" growled Oiran for a second time.

"Intelligent observation. Kuwabara? Would you mind? I'd rather not waste my time," Hiei sighed. Kuwabara eyed the smaller man with a frown, not sure if his comment had been an insult or not. Deciding just not to worry about it, Kuwabara went after the female with ease. Within five minutes he'd sliced her head off and watched it roll five feet away.

"That was for Yusuke," Kuwabara hissed.

_And Keiko,_ thought Hiei. _It was just as much for Keiko._

--

"Good job with Oiran and her groupies, men," Koenma gurgled past his pacifier. "But I see from your report that you think something bigger is going on."

"Yes, sir," Kurama replied. "It seems that Oiran was fairly weak—"

"Fairly weak is an understatement," snorted Hiei.

"—but she still managed to become the leader of a group of demons much stronger than her," continued Kurama. "From our understanding, these other demons were hardly important to Makai—not even a speck in the lords' consideration. Blackmail would hardly work on them. If you ask me, there was something much larger going on."

"That's an easy enough case to crack," Koenma said happily. "From what I hear, Oiran was much more intelligent than the average demon—and much richer. Gouriki, in an odd fit of sentimentality, left her his fortune. And those other demons that fought so willingly for her were very, very deep in debt."

"How simple," frowned Kurama. "It's amazing what money can do."

"Admit it, Kurama. We come from mercenary stock," said Hiei. "There are few that are truly upstanding citizens of Makai—and even they have their worse moments. Including us. Come. We've wasted enough time here. We still have to report to Keiko."

"Ah."

--

"It's done, Keiko," murmured Kurama, gripping the girl's hand lightly in his own, watching her stare at him blankly. "The last of the demons is gone."

"I see," she whispered, blinking. Hiei stood not far away, leaning against the doorframe, silent. "Thank you."

"It was nothing, Keiko," Kuwabara growled, his voice thick. "Yusuke would have done the same damn thing."

"Yes, he would have," she agreed easily. "What's next for the three of you?"

"Nothing," shrugged Kuwabara. "Well, classes at the university and all, but no more assignments for us."

"Kuwabara has been made spirit detective," Kurama said quietly.

"Congratulations, Kuwabara," Keiko said politely, her face showing no hint of emotion.

"Thanks, Keiko."

"We should go," said Hiei, speaking up for the first time.

"Right," sighed Kurama, letting go of Keiko's hand and rising. "We will talk to you soon, Keiko."

"Alright."

--

Later that night Keiko sat near the window and stared outside. The stars were twinkling merrily, and she was briefly happy that she could see them through the obviously polluted skies.

_"Yusuke, do you think there will be a day where we'll never be able to see the stars?"_

_"Bah. Why wouldn't we be able to?"_

_"I don't know. Smog, pollution...stuff like that."_

_"You're too pessimistic, Keiko."_

_"Yusuke."_

_"Don't worry, Keiko. Just because we might not be able to see the stars, doesn't mean that they're not there."_

"Yusuke."

--

--end--

_"oiran" courtesan_

_"ennetsujigoku" flames of hell_

_Ridiculous fighting sequence because I'm terrible at them. And yes. There is a plot. Wait for it._


End file.
